


I Want To Be

by LoquaciousLagomorph



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Also Bipolar disorder, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Erik has anger management issues, Explicit Language, Fred is a circus preformer, Friendship, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male Friendship, Mutant Biology Headcanons, POC Pietro Maximoff, POC Wanda Maximoff, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Plot points will arrive slowly, Religious Talks, Verbal Abuse, have patience, the Lehnsherr family is Jewish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoquaciousLagomorph/pseuds/LoquaciousLagomorph
Summary: You've fucked up so many times. Do you really still believe you deserve trust?The X-Men lose a member, and the Brotherhood gains a captive.No one could have guessed this would make all the difference.Alternatively Titled; you can pry these poor, heartbroken, canon-ignored characters from my cold, dead hands. They are friends now.Well, they will gradually become friends. It is LAW!





	1. Magneto, Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story is taking quite a bit of creative liberty from the source material, if you could say that. Marvel comics and movies have a way of making their cast lack solid characterization, so the characters are how I see them. Also note, though I am a fan of the X-Men comics and cartoons, I have not had access to every piece of media featuring them, so I may get facts about them wrong, and for this, I apologize in advance.

The impact was worse than he anticipated-- it stings to breathe, his head is pounding, and he can't work up the strength to move his limbs just yet. He dare not open his eyes in a mix of pain, vertigo, and shame. 

His pride has taken the greatest blow. Beaten, lain low, and left injured and vulnerable in some wet, unkempt field by a gaggle of gossiping, vain, naive, stupid children? Impossible! It is pathetic, and a fate not meant for him! No, it is a fate meant for someone weaker, with less resolve, with less skill and cunning, meant for someone like--

He gasps. His train of thought remains unfinished as he feels a pair of cold arms wrap around him. Could it be that his brothers in arms have followed through just this once? Is it an Acolyte? A Brother? Maybe his son, or his daughter? 

He feels himself being lifted. His ears are still ringing, but he can make out sound, and whoever is holding him is talking. He forces his eyes open, and is instantly thrown from hope back into rage and embarrassment.

It's that boy. The brute. Colossus.

The wall of steel skin hurts his eyes with its obnoxious vibrancy, even in the dark of this wretched night. He feels bile rise in his throat as he takes in this new awful scene. He is being cradled by this big, dumb lout, and having words of comfort cooed at him as if he were some wounded baby fawn! Colossus's metal face is knitted with concern and-- and-- pity. He is not an animal! He is not a weak creature to be coddled and cared for! He is a mutant, better than human, deserving of respect! Even injured as he is, he could incapacitate this fool right now, if he so wished!

He hears a rising chorus of voices from far off, voices he instantly recognizes as _not allies_. Powerful as he may be, he is fraught with panic and fully aware that he must take any means to keep himself from being a prisoner again.

He stares at Colossus's _shiny_ face and grins. He raises an arm gingerly, and can feel a power bubbling and stirring within him. The boy's eyes go wide as he realizes what is happening, but he has no time to react. When will the X-Men learn that you shouldn't fight the Master of Magnetism with metal?


	2. Captive Audience

Fred's got an ice pack pressed to his head, and that's how Todd just knows that this battle was absolute shit for absolutely everyone. If arguably the toughest member of your team, the one that is hardest to take down and has immobility as his whole thing, gets beaten forwards, backwards, and sideways, then yeah, you got a pretty good compass to point to how south all your shit has gone. Oh, the mission started off simple, and it wasn't meant to draw the attention of all of the X-Hypocrites, yet here he is! Here they all are! Right now! Nursing sore fucking everythings! Hooray!

He narrows his eyes at Fred, who has taken up all the real-estate on the sofa in the "living room" and has one hand on the ice pack that's on his head and the other close to it in a sort of I'm-a-600-pound-bearded-criminal-damsel-in-distress sort of way. Part of him wants to let the lug rest, because  _fuck_ if he doesn't  _also_  want that same thing very badly, but the poor idiot has work to do, same as everyone, and he doesn't get to be exempt because of a headache, of all things.

Also, Magneto isn't back yet. Considering the firework show that was the night previous, Todd can't imagine him being very happy if and when he returns. Todd is the resident punching bag. Todd is also very scared of Magneto. So having everything as it should be when he returns is ideal, and simple math, really.

"Fred. Come on, you know you have work to do," Todd says.

Fred growls, "Can't ya lower your voice? Goddamn, I gotta headache the size of my ass over here!"

Though Fred is smirking at his own try for humor, Todd is thoroughly unimpressed, and folds his arms over his chest to express it.

Fred continues, "Hey, did'ya get the number of the bitch who got me with that psybomb? I'd probably hit that. In every possible way" 

 Todd chuckles a little at that one. "Seriously? Come on."

"Whaaat, I'm a man with no standards! S'not a bad thing!"

"Fred, work, come on."

"Uggh, why you gotta be a spoilsport all the time? Let me be, Toad. I think I deserve it, after carrying all your asses last night and getting blown to hell and back? Yeah, I deserve it."

Todd bristles at that statement, but decides not to comment on it, because this is Fred, and arguing with Fred just gets you talking in circles or pounded.

"Look, I just need you to move a generator! That's all! I have things that I have to do before Mags gets back, and if they're not done, he'll have my hide! And yours too, probably!"

"Oh yeah, that's real rich! What's he gonna do, make paperclips float around me all threatening-like? Last we saw him, he was in a glass box in happy-slappy-X-county with a collar around his neck. If he's bounced back from that already, why, I'll eat my hat!"

Todd is fuming. "What's so hard about moving a generator! I am NOT in the mood to get throttled or yelled at, and maybe your fat, entitled, masochist ass would enjoy that, but I don't! Just do this for me, okay?" 

Fred glares up at him. "This is sounding more and more like a you problem. Move it yourself, swamp-thing."

"Sideshow freak!"

"French appetizer!"

"Epcot Ball!"

"Swizzle Stick!"

"Boys!" Shouts a voice that makes Fred and Todd's heads turn. 

It's Wanda, and she's looking none too happy.

Fred is the first to react. "Well, if it isn't Little Red Riding Hood, here to bless us with her presence! Where were you last night? Coulda used some help hauling your old man's ass outta X-catraz."

Wanda is deadpan. "He's back." 

The room goes cold. "Already?" Todd squeaks.

Wanda nods. "He's been back for a while. And he wants you. Both of you." She motions for the both of them to follow her. Fred swears and throws his ice pack on the floor before getting to his feet and lumbering after. Todd shuffles behind slowly, anxiety filling his chest and stomach to the brim. 

 Wanda leads them to the highest-tech door in the building. Not a good thing. Never a good thing.

"The fuck is he doing in the lab?" Fred whispers to Todd.

Wanda smiles knowingly at the two of them, then unlocks the door, which opens with a mechanical 'woosh'. Cold, uninviting air spills out, and the sound of machinery whirring makes its existence known.

"Papa," she calls into the laboratory. "I am back!"

"Splendid!" The trio hears echo from within the lab. "Do come inside, quickly, you're letting the cold air out." 

Todd feels his spirit lift just a little. Magneto doesn't sound angry, so maybe no throttling? But sounding happy in a semi-evil laboratory doing God knows what...not very comforting.

Wanda leads the way again, down a flight of metal stairs and into a room full of various electronic and mechanical devices, some of which Todd has built and Fred has repaired or moved. At the end of the room farthest from them is Mastermind, who has his arms folded behind his back and is looking at some sort of control panel, and Magneto, the man of the hour. Both are still in full uniform.

"Ahh, there you are, darling," Magneto says, walking forward and embracing his daughter. "You are free to go." Wanda nods, gives Fred and Todd a smirk and quick pats on their shoulders, and heads back up the staircase. 

Next, he turns to face Todd and Fred. "Frederick, Mortimer," he greets. It's full first names with no insults attached, so it must be business. Calm business. What a relief.

"I don't believe I need to remind anyone here that last night's mission could have gone...more smoothly," he begins. "However, regardless of what an... embarrassment the whole affair was, and keeping in mind the fact that you were all too distracted to stay on the task at hand, which, in case you forgot, was extracting me from my prison safely and escorting me out unscathed and not abandoning me and assuming I would be fine on my own immediately following incarceration--"

He's getting off topic. Angrily off topic. Everyone in the room knows that this is not a good thing. Todd winces and Fred takes a step back, both of them bracing for an emotional outburst. 

It doesn't come. Magneto instead takes a deep breath, smiles warmly, and continues. "The night was not a failure. Not in the slightest! I am free, and I have brought something of interest for our cause."

Fred's eyebrows are raised and his curiosity is piqued. He looks at Todd for an answer, but Todd just shrugs.

"Now, this is a project that I will need your collaboration on. The two of you, with the guidance of Mastermind, will have the responsibility of looking after our new...pet project. You will be tasked with enhancing and repairing equipment fit for interrogation and experimentation purposes and supervising our progress at all times."

Todd's eyes widen at 'interrogation and experimentation'. It was his turn to be curious, but with a splash of mortal terror. He looks up at Fred for explanation, but Fred shrugs. 

Magneto grins at their reactions, and turns to face Mastermind. "Jason, our friends seem confused. Would you like to do the honors?"

"It would be my pleasure," Jason says. He hits a series of buttons, and suddenly the metal wall on the left of them splits in two and slides apart, replaced by a wall of glass that was hidden beneath. 

Fred's jaw drops instantly, and Todd steps closer to the window to verify what he is seeing. 

It's a large room, blindingly white and void of furniture. That isn't the shocking part. There, in the center of the room, is a hulking figure. His forearms are caught in brace-like shackles, he is trapped in a kneeling position with his legs tied up beneath him, and a large, belt-like shackle is wrapped around his waist. His head is held down in shame. The most shocking part? The part that has Todd's shaking hands pressed against the window to try and get some sort of reality out of the situation? His skin is metal. He's eight-- nine feet, tops. This is the so-called heart of the X-Men, a hero who is equally notorious for not giving up as he is for being incredibly annoying to incapacitate. It's fuck-mothering Colossus!

Incredulous laughter bubbles up out of Todd. "Holy shit! How did you-?"

"He made the foolish mistake of separating himself from the other X-Men," Magneto explains. "From there, even in my weakened state, I was able to gain control of his metal form. He carried me home without a bit of trouble from any of Xavier's ilk."

Todd's laughter becomes barking. "That's brilliant! Oh my God, I don't believe it!" He turns to face Fred. "Pick a hat and start chewing, fatso!" He whispers.

Fred rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that's great and all, but won't the other X-shitheads try getting him back? They could come pounding on our door any second, if they can track him."

"Good observation, Fred. A rarity for you. Here's my answer-" he leans in closely to the both of them, a malicious smile splitting his face "-they won't try anything, if they want him back alive." 

Fred grins, satisfied with that answer, but a chill runs down Todd's spine. Capture, that's one thing, but...oh God, what're they gonna do to him?

"The containment area works in such a way that everything is automated, a system based closely on one the Avengers designed," Magneto begins to explain. "I expect actual contact with the prisoner to be kept to a minimum. Our main goal is to find out as much about his mutation as possible, how it can benefit us and, most importantly, if and how we can make him join our forces."

Jason speaks up next. "Some of us will have to watch over him in shifts. Whole-day surveillance is unnecessary, but someone should always be on standby just in case something goes wrong. I will make myself busy with designing new equipment to better suit our...guest. Toad," he says, looking Todd in the eyes with a face of severity, "you will likely be chiefly responsible for him. Fred and I have more obligations than you, generally. There is a handbook for the system on the control panel that you really should study. Your surveillance time starts...now."

And with that, Jason makes his leave.

Todd is left standing there, mouth agape as Fred laughs hysterically.

"Have fun playing babysitter," Fred whispers as he jabs Todd in the chest with his elbow.

"Frederick," Magneto says sharply, "you are now dismissed. I must have a word, alone, with Toad here."

Fred smiles smugly, flashes Todd a double thumbs up, and climbs the staircase out. 

When they are alone, Magneto grabs Todd's shoulders, hard, and shoves his face as close as possible to his own. "Now, you listen to me, Toad," he hisses, "Jason has put more faith in you just now than I would ever give you in my lifetime. Your track record with these kinds of things is abysmal!" Magneto punctuates this sentence by lifting Todd up and slamming him against the glass wall, forcing all breath out of his twiggy body. "My patience with you, especially after the disaster that was last night's escape, is wearing exceedingly thin!" He slams Todd against the window again. "I am giving you the benefit of the doubt here, Toad. I want you to perform your duty well, you understand? I don't want you to fail! Yet you do, time and time again! You should be better! You are homo superior!" 

He hikes the boy up one more time, more forcefully, if that is possible. "DON'T-" he shouts, slamming the boy back into the window- "FAIL-" SLAM "ME-" SLAM "AGAIN!"

Finally, he drops the boy, who is gasping, wheezing, and shaking. He pats him on his head, smiles with mock adoration, and says sweetly, "understood?" 

Magneto then turns heel and calmly makes his way up the stairs. 

Todd struggles to catch his breath. He puts his hands against the glass wall and pulls himself shakily to his feet. As he looks through the window, he sees the shocked face of the captive Colossus, his eyes filled with- with-

Pity.

Todd snarls and bangs a fist against the window, and the Colossus quickly looks away. Good. He should be frightened, that nosey, stupid--

Todd sighs, and dully wonders if his chores will ever get done, or if Fred will ever move that godforsaken generator.


	3. Too Much Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written deep in the night, so there are probably spelling/grammatical errors in here that I didn't catch. Feel free to call me out on them.

The book is probably the most boring garbage Todd has ever read. Which is weird, considering it's on the subject of a super-secret, high-security containment room that's probably full of all sorts of torturous "goodies". By all means, it should be interesting! Todd's not a big fan of reading, and when he does get around to it, it's mostly comic books, graphic novels, and, heh, INSTRUCTION MANUALS. 

This book, however, is long, tedious, and vague as all hell! It's full of Avenger propaganda, which is kind of funny in retrospect, if only because it's an instruction manual for a torture device made by 'heroes'. Ah, irony.

The book has him thinking, though; how long have they had the secret room? Was it JUST installed? For ONE prisoner? Seems pointless to him. And on the subject of pointless-- why the fuck does someone have to supervise the thing? Is there a real danger of the Big Guy just up and waltzing out? Because that makes his skin crawl, and he wants to be at least ten miles from "The Death Box," as he has decided to call it just now.

He keeps flicking his eyes up from the pages of the book to look at the Colossus. Big oaf isn't doing much. Not that there's anything for him to do, other than tug at the restraints boredly a couple of times. The first time Todd saw him rattle his shackles, he nearly died of cardiac arrest on the SPOT. A quick flip through the book eased his fear (it's only moment of usefulness thus far); the shackles are made of the nigh-indestructable, super rare, really expensive metal adamantium, apparently, making Todd wonder just HOW THE FRESH FRIED FUCK MAGS AFFORDS ANY OF THIS. 

He's getting cold and sore from sitting on the hard metal floor. Guess Jason wasn't enough of a Mastermind to put sitting and chairs into the supervision situation. Either that, or Magneto's dislike of him was really beginning to rub off on Jason. Todd hoped it was the first. Two Magnetos would get unbearable. 

What's  a supervisor even really supposed to do, anyway? Is the whole point to be like a warden? That sounds kinda cool. Make sure the prisoners don't hang themselves, insult 'em if you get bored, bring 'em food and maybe one of those metal mugs that prisoners rub against cell bars in old cartoons-- 

Wait. Food. Oh. 

Is that _his_ responsibility? How's ANYONE supposed to feed the guy? A brief image of the Colossus being spoon-fed, complete with rocket noises (or whatever communists like?) flashes across his mind and he chuckles. No way any of the Brotherhood would be caught doing THAT. 

He realizes upon making a quick sweep of The Death Box with his eyes that yeah, there is absolutely no furniture in there, which means there is nowhere for the Colossus to use the bathroom. You know, if he wasn't chained up.

He just wanted to read the stupid book so he could get some stupid answers to his stupid questions, but now he's more confused than he was before! Should he ask the guy if he's hungry or needs to pee? What's he supposed to do if he needs to pee? Let the Big Guy out and escort him to the bathroom, hoping that he won't invert his facial features and remove all of his bones in the process? Is there some sort of code of conduct for those situations? What if he takes action by himself, but it's not what Magneto wants? WHAT IF HE DOESN'T DO ANYTHING, AND MAGNETO WANTS HIM TO DO SOMETHING?

He grabs fistfuls of his hair and tugs it in a fit of rage. Why can't something just be easy for ONCE? He's being crushed with a sense of urgency and dread, and the only way he can think to alleviate it is to do something.

He gets up out of his uncomfortable position on the floor and makes his way over to the control panel, instruction manual in hand. He gives the pages a few flips, trying to see if there's a page on the functions of the buttons on the control panel.

Oh hey, there's a page on communication. There's an intercom system for the thing. Under a small panel, which he quickly opens, is a microphone and an on/off switch, along with a volume knob. Huh. Seems self explanatory. Also, the book has now been helpful a number of two times total, so maybe lightning can strike twice?

He flips the switch on and gives the mic a quick tap, hearing a bit of feedback over the intercom. The Colossus hears it too, and jerks up and sits as alert as he possibly can.

"Hey," Todd says. The Colossus winces at the loudness of the intercom. "Do you like, hafta piss?"

The Colossus tilts his head, drops his jaw, and stares, dumbfounded, at Todd for a moment. "I...I am sorry, I must have misheard. Repeat, please?"

"Piss. Do you have to piss. Or shit, I guess? Either one. Or both? Ugh sorry, that's...kind of a gross thing to ask, in hindsight."

The Colossus narrows his eyes at Todd and keeps staring for a good minute. "I do not have to use the restroom when in my armored form, if that is what you are asking," he says slowly.

Todd starts to say something, then stops, thinks, and goes to speak again. "You don't have to use the restroom? At all? I'm relieved, cause now at least I know I don't have to watch over your stupid, holier-than-though ass _that_ much, but does that, uh, apply to other things?"

The Colossus looks ready to answer when his eyes go wide. He stares up at Todd, then begins to frantically tug at his restraints.

Todd stares down in confusion, until he feels a hand roughly grip his shoulder. He's spun around harshly, and is face to face with Jason.

"What're you doing!?" Jason demands.

Todd lets out a shriek and falls backwards, bumping his head on a corner of the control panel on the way down and dropping the book that was in his hands. Todd hisses, and begins rubbing the now-tender spot on the back of his head. Ouch, yeah, that's gonna leave a mark.

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and massages a temple with the other. "Really, Toad? I thought we covered this?" He reaches a hand down, grabs Todd's arm, and helps pull him up to his feet.

"What did we cover? And why are you back so soon?" Todd asks. "Not that I'm complaining," he adds.

"Contact. With the prisoner. It's supposed to be none, if we can help it. Mr. Lehnsherr practically just told you that. Also, it's my shift."

"Well-- uh, I uh, I was just asking if-- not because I was curious or anything! But I was just--"

Jason's glares intensely at Todd as he tries to form his sentence. "Please collect yourself, Toad. I hate stuttering more than I do mistakes."

Todd takes a deep breath, and begins again. "Man, I was just asking if he needs to pee! It's not the end of the world!"

Jason's hand flies back to the bridge of his nose. "Christ, Toad. That's remarkable. You just made yourself, and this entire outfit, by association, look like an unprepared buffoon to the prisoner. In less than a day"

Todd rubs a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. "What was I s'posed to do? Let the big idiot piss himself? I'd be the one cleaning it, I just know it!"

Jason stares at him blankly. "He doesn't have to pee. Ever. Not when he's like that," says Jason, motioning to the Colossus, who is looking slightly amused.

"I know that now!" Todd says. "That's what he told me when I asked him!"

"Why didn't you just consult the notes I left you on everything we currently know about him? I put them on the control panel with the book!"

"No you didn't!" Todd cries defensively. "I would know if you did! Nothing was on the panel, and nothing was in this lousy brick of a book you gave me!" Todd scoops the book off of the ground and waves it in Jason's face angrily.

Jason snatches the book from his hand. "Give me that!" He orders. He gives Todd a level look before thumbing through all the pages of the book quickly. He stares at it in disbelief, then turns it upside down and shakes it. He then checks the top of the control panel, the floor under the panel, and any nook and cranny in the room. No notes.

Jason face goes pale before being consumed by a deep red blush. Todd cautiously takes a step back.

"Oh Toad, that's my bad isn't it?" Jason says.

"You...you aren't gonna tell Magneto about this, are you?" Todd asks carefully. "You aren't gonna make me quit this whole surveillance thing right after I started? God, Mags'd kill me…"

"Of course not," Jason says quickly. "Can't see a point in it. This one's on me, I'm afraid. I've been so busy lately, what with all the work Mr. Lehnsherr needs done, that ambitious man…" Jason sighs. "I'll just have to 'clean up' this little mess we've made, eh? This will be our dirty little secret, between the two of us, right, Toad?" 

Todd nods, a weight lifted from his shoulders.

Jason forces a smile and turns back to the control panel. "Well, do as you do and hop along like a good little Toad, then. Don't want you stinking up this 'observation deck'."

Todd doesn't need to be told twice, but as he's about to take his first step up the stairs, a thought crosses his mind. He turns and faces Jason again. "Hey 'mind?" he says. "What are you going to do with him?"

Jason doesn't take his eyes off of the control panel. "He's weak to mental manipulation," he explains. "I'm going to test how far his mind can be bent." Todd shudders at that. "In small increments, of course," Jason elaborates. "I'm not a monster."

Todd swallows, hard, and begins to climb the stairs. This shouldn't be messing with him as much as it is. The Colossus is an enemy. A lot of people Todd knows have a beaten-up-by-a-team-including-Colossus story. The X-Men and the Brotherhood are too different to co-exist, and the X-men are liars and hypocrites, and The Colossus is probably an asshole. Hell, given the chance, Todd himself would hop right into The Death Box and beat the living shit out of the Vodka-breathed bastard until his teeth were dust without so much as a flinch.

Maybe it's because he's uncomfortable with the Colossus being trapped in a room under the house he sleeps in. Maybe it's because he's squeamish at the thought of the poor lug being strung up and poked at. Maybe it's because he's slowly realizing just how depraved some of his housemates can really be, and he isn't ready to face the reality and connotations of that. Maybe it's just the same old anxiety he always has about everything, but wearing a different hat. Whatever it is, he has a terrible feeling about all of this, and he hopes it goes away soon.

Todd shoves it all down though, and opens the upstairs door. He's ready to relax and take his mind off of all the shit he's seen in the past few days.

As he closes the door behind him, he hears Jason's voice from in the basement.

"JESUS CHRIST, I EVEN FORGOT TO PUT FURNITURE DOWN HERE!"


	4. Ah, The Short Attention Span of Teenagers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter written in the sweet, sweet bosom of late night/early morning! This one HAS to have some errors somewhere that I didn't catch. Also, I've never written Pietro before, and it might show. Warning; this chapter is dialogue heavy with not much action. Just a heads up.

Disco, pop, and techno aren't really Fred's types. He's mulling it over while he sits in the "living room" on a loveseat and chews on a popsicle stick. He's listening to Dazzler's hit song _Star Dancing Girl_ from her album _Disco Ball Heart_ on the radio.

It's alright. The sort of song that has a tendency to turn into an earworm if you aren't careful. He's more of a rock or country guy, himself. Dazzler has done rock before, and she's the sort of artist who dabbles in things and never really settles for one. He hopes she tries rock again soon. 

She's cute. He's seen her on the television before. She's always laughing or dancing and looking like she's having the time of her life. Fred wishes he could experience that kind of free, unrestricted elation.

Everyone who has ears has heard her music, and she has the pipes of an angel. Every reporter seems to call her "the face of all good mutants."

He snaps the popsicle stick in half with his teeth. He wonders if she's ever had someone recoil away from her in disgust.

Speaking of disgust, Todd hops his happy ass into the "living room", takes a seat on the couch, gives a little croak, and asks, "didja know that the Colossus doesn't have to piss ever?"

Fred grimaces and pulls the popsicle stick halves out of his mouth. "What the shit, Toad?" is the only thing he can think to reply with.

Todd starts picking at a stain on his green tee shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. "I just...I figured you might've known? Jason knew. And I mean, you used to hang out with X-Men, right?"

Fred sighs. "Firstly, that's gross. What kinda greeting is 'hey, did you know such-and-such does _anything_ bathroom related'? And secondly we've talked about this, Toad. I wasn't an 'official' X-Man. Barely got to know any of those bozos before I blew that joint."

Fred assumes that's the end of the conversation and wedges himself further into the loveseat. But, Todd pipes up again. "What was he like? The Colossus?"

Fred growls. "Did ya not just hear me? Said I didn't know any a those bastards! Christ on a stick, Toad!"

Todd scoffs. "Well, you met them more personally than any of the rest of us, so anything you know would be news to me. What was it like? The mansion? How'd they treat you?"

Fred groans, turns the volume knob on the radio down, pulls himself to sit on the edge of the loveseat, cracks his knuckles, steeples his fingers, and looks at Toad. "Why are you suddenly so interested? You never asked me about this before."

Todd wilts a little under Fred's judgemental gaze. "Just curious!" He blurts. That explanation doesn't fly with Fred, who narrows his eyes. "Well, I mean, if we're gonna have the Colossus in our basement for a while, I wanna at least know if he's a dick so I can sleep better at night."

Fred growls. "Jesus, Toad! Last thing we need is for you to get all sad about that guy! Next thing we know, you'll be writing poetry and talking mutiny! Sweet fuck! You aren't thinking about breaking him out or anything, are you? Because if you are, then--"

"No, no, no! It's not like that!" Todd shouts. "I just--ughhh!" Todd tries to pull himself further into the couch in anger.

Fred heaves another sigh. "Look, Toad. You're too soft hearted and soft headed for your own good. I don't need you getting all moany, PETA-type levels of feelings about this guy, ya know?"

Todd nods.

Fred looks at him evenly for a second before beginning. "When they found me and brought me in, they did all sorts of weird tests on me. A lot like what we're doing to him right now. Only they didn't cuff me, cause they didn't actually know if I were a mutant or dangerous at that time. We know he's a dangerous mutant, right, Toad?"

Todd nods again, a bit angry at Fred's tone and insinuation of stupidity, (especially considering Fred himself is not exactly the fastest horse in the race) but feeling more confident in this conviction. The Colossus can't be stopped by walls, bullets, electricity, lasers, explosions, or fire. He is IMPENETRABLE.

Fred continues. "Didn't talk much to any of 'em. I only really remember that Phoenix chick. She was _just fine._ " Fred's face splits into a dopey grin at that thought for a moment, but then it's back to serious business. "But from what I do know about him, he's...alright. Gooder 'n the rest I guess. Friendly enough. Oh, real stickler for rules and whatever. Heard the guy is a health nut. But yeah, when I tried throwing my lot with X, he never threatened me, never tried sizing me up...heck, he was the only one who really seemed excited for a new member…"

Todd frowns and picks at a hangnail, seemingly off put by this information.

"Being a nice person doesn't mean anything though, Toad," Fred says sternly. His face scrunches up and he focuses, as if the next thing he's about to say is memorized or rehearsed. "There are "nice people" in every group, in every country on this bitch of an earth. Don't mean shit. It's an appearance, usually. You and I both know that well enough."

Todd nods for a third time, energetically and in full agreement.

"And besides," Fred says, getting comfortable in the loveseat once more now that he's certain Todd's curiosity is satiated. "He's a big boy. He signed up for this sort of thing. And s'not like we're killing him, or anything."

"Who are we killing?" Comes a third, uninvited voice.

"Pietro!" Todd exclaims.

"Is barging into places unannounced a Maximoff family tradition?" Fred snarls.

"What, am I not allowed to use the commons?" Pietro says, fanning his eyelashes and feigning innocence. He's wearing a coat in an obnoxious shade of blue and wearing sunglasses inside on a cloudy summer night, the cock. He cracks open an energy drink, crawls over the back of the couch Todd is sitting on, and stretches his legs so his body is armrest to armrest, effectively ramming his feet right into Todd's face.

Todd grimaces, slaps at Pietro's legs, and leaps off of the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor. "Fuckin' couch-hog" He mutters. "There's plenty of other places to sit, you know!" He says louder.

Pietro grins and takes a big swig of his drink. "Yeah? How about you find another seat then?" He chuckles at himself. "Seriously though, what were you two goons talking about?"

Fred groans and scrubs at his face in annoyance. "I just wanted to listen to music!" He laments.

"The X-Men," Todd responds, ignoring Fred's show of anger.

Pietro blows a raspberry, rolls his eyes, and dangles his head off of the armrest. "Why bother talking about those stiffies? Especially after the mission-that-shall-not-be-named."

A collective shudder is shared between the three. That's something everyone in the room can agree on; the less said about that absolute monster truck rally, the better.

"Makes me wonder, though," Pietro continues. "Pa's been really relaxed. Usually after such a bad screw-up like that, he's pissy and passive aggressive. Surprised he's not in another one of his obsessive fits. Not that I'm complaining; I hate to see my old man like that, but what's got him so happy? That night was a failure in every way! Practically nothing good came out of it."

Todd blinks, stunned, and makes wide eyes at Fred, who stares through Pietro.

"What!?" Pietro cries. "What is that look for!? Am I missing something?"

Todd grins mischievously and cocks his head at Pietro. "You mean to say you haven't heard?"

Pietro gasps and jolts up on the couch, nearly spilling his drink. "What!? What haven't I heard!?"

Fred smiles, happy to join in. "Oh, Toad, I don't think he's heard! Bless his heart!"

"Arrrgghh!" Pietro exclaims, stomping his feet. "I hate it when you guys do this! Stop playing games and tell me!"

Todd huffs. "Drama queen."

Fred nods in agreement. "Toad, I don't think we can trust Quickie here with something so...er, 'confidential' when he has a mouth so fast as that."

Pietro looks like a salivating dog. "It's a SECRET!?" He shouts. "C'mon guys! C'moooooonnn!!! Let me in on it! I can keep it!"

"I dunno, if Magneto didn't tell you, maybe you're just not supposed to know," Todd says.

Pietro folds his arms and glares, pouting.

Fred laughs and holds up his arms to acquiesce. "Alright, alright. We've had our fun. Here goes; we have an X-Man held captive."

Pietro's jaw drops to the floor. "What? Really? Who? Where?"

"In The Death Box!" Todd says all too quickly.

Fred and Pietro make bewildered faces at each other, and then at Todd.

"'The Death Box'?" Pietro asks, seeking clarification.

Fred frowns. "We are not calling it 'The Death Box', Toad."

"Too late," Todd says smugly. "I have already named it! No take backs!"

Pietro looks unamused. "Yeah, that's nice and all, but what is 'The Death Box' and who's being held there?"

"The Death Box is this hidden room down in the lab-basement," Fred explains.

"And your dad captured Colossus and tied him up in there! Can you imagine?" Todd adds excitedly.

Pietro is perplexed. "Why wouldn't he tell me?" He whispers inaudibly, hurt. Then, he makes a face. "Wait, hidden room?"

"Yup," Todd says.

"Does it have a glass wall you can see through?" Pietro asks.

"...yes?" Todd replies.

"Oh! That's the old training room."

"Training room!?" Both Todd and Fred exclaim.

"Yeah," says Pietro, nonchalantly. "I always wondered what happened to that old thing! Pa wanted a training room like the X-Men have so we can deal with our mutations better. He planned on having it be...less murderous, more focused on enhancing mutations rather than pitting people against an enemy. We never got around to fixing it up that way, though. Guess he decided to use it as a prison instead?"

"The guide book to the room was a bunch a propaganda written by the Avengers," Todd says, "Mags told me that's who built the thing."

"The Avengers are fucking creepy as _fuck_ ," Fred contributes disdainfully.

"Black Widow is hot though," Todd says.

Fred points at him and nods. "Black Widow _is_ hot," he agrees.

"I would let Black Widow break all of my bones in alphabetical order," Pietro says. "And then I would thank her."

"Aaaaand you just ranked a step higher on the creep-fuck scale than the Avengers, Silver," Todd says. "Your prize is the offer to kindly stand at least 20 feet the fuck away from me at all times."

"That would be my pleasure!" Pietro says.

"How would she even begin to go about breaking the stirrup?" Fred wonders aloud.

"The FUCK is a stirrup!?" Todd yells.

"Earbone," Fred says.

Pietro yelps suddenly, and Todd and Fred whip around to look at him. Wanda is standing behind him with his earlobe in a pinch. "I'll break YOUR earbone in a second!" She says down to her brother, giving his earlobe a tug.

"Ow! Ow! What did I ever do to you?" He cries.

"You were _supposed_ to come in here and get these two for a meeting, not grab a Monster and talk about your stupid crushes!"

"I was sidetracked! Gimme a break!"

Wanda grins and puts her other hand on his ear as well. "A break, you say?"

"NOT THAT KIND OF BREAK! ARRGH YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, stop bringing your stupid energy drinks in the commons? You always spill them, and they all reek! And they attract ants! And they make everything sticky!" She snaps. "Poor Papa's been waiting on all of us, you know how busy he is!"

She releases him from her grip and folds her arms. "Follow me, boys," she says. "You know the drill."

Todd and Pietro are on their feet in seconds. Fred takes a moment though, as he grumbles and flicks the radio off. "I guess I'll just have to get my Dazzler fix later," he seethes to himself.

He shakes his head, pulls himself to his feet, and lumbers after the other three.


	5. Pet Project

The Brotherhood all file into the dimly lit presentation room, only to be met with Magneto glaring silently at them from the head of the long meeting table, his fingers drumming impatiently against it.

Among the attendees-- other than Wanda, Pietro, Todd, and Fred, of course-- are Jason, who is sitting at a computer, getting a PowerPoint ready for the screen, and Remy, who is leaning back in a cheap plastic chair, examining his fingernails with his bootheels on the table.

"Glad you could all make it," Magneto says shortly. "Get seated. Let's begin. We have less time than I'd anticipated."

They take their seats: Jason at the end opposite to Mags, Todd to his left, Fred to his right, an empty chair next to Todd, Remy across from that, and Pietro and Wanda.

"Now, do any of you remember what our target was before my... impromptu dismissal?" Magneto asks, standing up slowly and approaching the presentation screen.

They all look at each other, bidding someone to speak up.

"...Some kind of...anti-mutant sciencey place?" Pietro guesses.

Magneto has to sigh at that wording, but says "yes, anti-mutant sciencey place," which makes Pietro beam.

"Specifically," Magneto continues, approaching the computer and switching slides before picking up a ruler from the desk and gesturing with it. "The group 'Humans for the Preservation and Adaptation of Mankind', or 'HUPAM,' and _this_ anti-mutant sciencey place."

The building on screen looks like a large, old, abandoned house, all sun-bleached and falling apart.

Another switch, and the house is replaced by a group of people with sour looks on their faces, blinking and glaring in the heat of the summery day photo being taken of them. Most are in suits or nice clothing, prim and proper and ready to be bastards.

"Before I left," he continues, "we had their numbers estimated to roughly twenty-five; unfortunately, they've gained traction, and I am uncertain to what degree. What is most concerning are these--" He flips the slides again, this time focusing on images of small electronics, collars, serums, and other odd doohickeys.

"Genetic modification devices," Magneto explains, giving time for the reveal to sink in.

They're all staring up at the board, seeking their own meaning from the frightening pieces of equipment.

"What, exactly," Fred asks slowly, "do they _do_?"

"Well," Magneto says, "from what I've gathered, they're meant to change the DNA of anyone afflicted with them. Some are meant to null-and-void mutations while others might be a step in turning humans into mutants. The collar is the only thing I'm aware of being out of the prototype stage. And it rids the wearer of mutation, even to the point of death. These things can _kill_ if used incorrectly. Or, perhaps, _correctly_."

Anger fills the room like a cumulonimbus, dark and bitter and frightened.

"More _happy little_ humans who think we need to be _fixed_ ," Magneto muses, his heels clicking as he paces the front of the room. He must profit from and harness this anger.

"They want to tie us up and use us as guinea pigs and lab rabbits. They want to tear us apart piece by piece, molecule by molecule. We are _nothing_ to them, for no other reason than _existing_. They will never respect us as we are. And, now, this group has proven they are violent and want war. They are trying to back us into a corner to pick us off

One.

By.

One.

What say you _we_ go and fix _them_?"

There is a determined glint in the eyes of everyone in attendance, all in accordance, all hurt and snubbed and stewing for revenge. Some nod, some crack their knuckles, some lean in closer.

Magneto smiles. "Here's the plan…"

* * *

 

 

When Todd goes back to his room that night, he swears, cusses, kicks things, throws things, takes his shirt off, punches his pillow--

"You aren't going on this mission," Magneto had said. Right in front of everyone.

And, for his part, Todd tried to stand up for himself, said something like "but I can do this!" or "give me a chance!" or "I deserve some revenge!" And Magneto...he waited for the room to empty, talked to Todd in private.

"I'm giving you a chance to save some face," he had said. "You owe me something, don't you think? Consider this a test; while we're away, I expect you to take further care of our little pet project. If you can prove to me that you're responsible enough to do that, I will begin sending you on missions again. Sound fair?"

Todd wanted to refute, wanted to have a chance to be with his team, but the words fell away on his tongue, and he hopped away like a good little Toad.

He wheezes an angry breath as he throws himself on his bed, seething and tearing his throat apart with angry little sounds.

From far off outside comes the squeal of tires, and Todd knows that Fred is doing donuts in his truck. Bloated jerk could probably up and leave any time he feels like it, but he won't, and who knows why.

It seems like everyone else has their own special secret life on the side they get to live, and it feels unfair. Todd only has this one. This is _it_. And it's not even very _good_.

He wants respect. Just like everybody else. Why does _he_ have to be saddled with... _the pet project?_ The Colossus is effectively a rock; not eating, not sleeping, not saying anything interesting. Just. Sitting there! Wouldn't being out in the field again win back more respect for him than... _the pet project_?

Pets...on the subject of pets…

He turns his head to stare at the terrarium on his table, all warm and aglow in his otherwise dark and damp room.

He smiles as he stands to peer at it.

Ah, his frogs. His pride and joy. His bedroom is a sanctuary of his own, built for him, but designed for the comfort of his pretties.

He gently places his index finger against the glass of their terrarium, wiggling it and pretending to tickle the belly of the bigger one.

The big one is Slippy. The smaller one is Frogger. Are they clever names? No. He knows this, but he cuts himself some slack on the account of him being uncreative and SUPER into video games.

He is content for the moment to watch Slippy's little chin wobbling in and out with tiny frog sounds. Frogger, evidently, seems bored by this, and makes it known by firing himself like a torpedo at his brother.

"Hey! Play nice!" Todd scolds.

The frogs stare at him dumbly.

"I know what this is about," Todd sing-songs.

He opens up a container of fat grubs he kept out of sight, picking up the tweezers to grab them with.

He dangles a squirming grub above his angels, waiting for them to notice and strike. Slippy gets the first bite; he always does.

Todd grabs another grub. This time, Frogger punches his brother out of the way, greedily taking his prize and smacking his lips with glee when it's swallowed.

Todd repeats, grinning with fondness at his little friends.

They will never throw him away. They will never tell him he's too ugly or smelly. They need him. They want him to stay. They know that he's good.

He just has to prove that to everyone else.

He sighs as he closes up the terrarium and falls back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling, tired yet determined. Tomorrow, he will work his hardest, be his best. He will wake up early, start early, prove to Magento and everybody that he can be good.

He is going to _kick ass._

He feels motivation flow through him as he sets his alarm clock and lets himself drift into sleep.


	6. Echolalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only a dream. Only a pretty little dream, dreamt somewhere by someone. Lay head soft and wake in the teeth of the water basin.

_Are you proud of your choice, kid? Well? Are you happy with yourself?_

 

What? What do you mean?

_That stunt you pulled? Real clever. Your folks would be just delighted, I'm sure._

Please, stop. It hurts.

" _Oh please stop! It hurts!" Do you hear yourself when you talk? God, you are pathetic!_

Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?

_You are a COWARD. A DISGRACE. You should be grateful it's me doing this and not someone else. You deserve worse than what I'm giving you._

_Consider this a mercy._

I don't understand--!

_Then I guess I have to make it clear. You always were a dense, brain-dead motherfucker--_

Please! No! Stop!

_\--so I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. After everything you've done, you think you deserve MERCY? How many people have been hurt because of you? How many times has somebody been put in danger for your sorry ass?_

I didn't mean for--

_Can't you see that this is all YOUR fault? Everyone's hurting, and all you do is sit there like a FUCKING USELESS ASSHOLE._

_See! You're doing it right now! Say something, idiot! Do something!_

_Now don't you look away-- LOOK AT ME!_

_LOOK AT ME!_

_Aww are you crying? Poor thing. You know there are others who can't cry right now? They're dead. And you're sitting here like a goddamn vegetable sonofabitch--_

_I SAID LOOK AT ME!_

_AND YOU'RE SITTING HERE LIKE A GOD. DAMN. VEGETABLE. SON OF A BITCH. DOING FUCKALL EXCEPT THROWING YOURSELF A FUCKING PITY PARTY._

_I miss them, you know? It should have been you. It should have always been you. Why don't you ever try harder?_

Please! I-- I'm sorry. I never meant for this-- I...I wanted to do good. Be good.

_I don't forgive you._

I know.

_You don't deserve it._

I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know. I know.

_You know what you deserve._

 

I know.


	7. Morning Song

Todd wakes up, not to the sound of the alarm he set, but rather to the sound of Dazzler music blaring at _four in the Godforsaken morning._

He feels like screaming as he grabs his pillow and pulls it around his head. Maybe if he just ignores it, it will go away…?

Not likely. His luck never seems to work like that.

So he pries himself off of the bed like a fry cook might dollar-cheap breakfast sausage from the griddle and scrubs at his face, warm and sweaty and pimply and crinkled from unsubstantial sleep.

He yawns, lets out a strangled, screechy sound as he stretches, and yawns again, and ponders all the magnificent ways he might get back at whoever decided an impromptu ass-crack-of-dawn dance session was in order.

Putting beetles in their bed could be fun…

He didn't change into pajamas the night previous, and a quick whiff tells him it shows. He strips down post haste and switches into cleaner clothes: cargos and a T-Shirt from the herp appreciation club he'd joined forever ago.

Ah, the herp appreciation club. Fun times. He got bitten by a snake. It was awesome.

He turns his head to his frogs in their tank, stands rim-rod straight, salutes, and says "wish me luck, boys!"

They respond with their usual quiet ribbity sounds.

He marches out of his room, plodding on the plush carpet on his way to the kitchen, and he pricks his ear up to try and decipher where the music is coming from.

Fred's room. _Of course_.

After introducing both of his birds to the door in quick angry succession, he grumbles and situates himself at the mouth of the hallway.

The whole place is dark. No one in their right mind has woken up yet to fetch the switches. The only fixture of light is the moon, which peers judgingly in through the windows as if to say, "Todd, you bastard, it's me time, go the fuck back to bed." So Todd has to James Bond his way around the ghostly place, the Mission Impossible theme playing in his otherwise empty head.

He's nervous to wake anyone like Fred woke him, because he _knows_ he's gonna get the guy back at some point.

He steps into the kitchen. His cold bare feet pat against the linoleum. The moon shines in with all its glory, seeming to cast an annoyed glance down at Todd. The times on the microwave and oven are blinking, and there's a small night light plugged into the wall, so _now_ he's _cooking_.

A quick breakfast, he decides, then business.

He grabs one of those "easy egg breakfast in a cup" things and cracks an egg into it, whisks it, and throws it in the mic.

He squats in front of the microwave. The only thought in his head as he watches the cup spin is "egg egg egg egg egg."

The beautiful little food box finally screeches, causing Todd to almost shit himself, because _don't wake anyone up!_ but it's _also_ heralding savory cheesy egg goodness, and Todd slams the door open, grabs the food without thinking, and immediately bites back an "aw fuck" because he just burnt his stupid hand on eggs at _four in the Godforsaken morning._

No matter! Egg, business, ???, profit, awaits!

He fumbles in a nearby drawer for a plastic spoon, feeling dumbly around with his burnt hand, grabs the little rascal, and makes his way out.

He walks silently to the lab door, then freezes. It looks so much more... _forbidding_ in the dark. Threatening, and angry.

He shifts from foot to foot anxiously, a bubble of apprehension building in his stomach as his skin is wracked in nerves. He tries to quell the fear by taking a bite of egg.

He knows it's just a stupid fucking door. It can't hurt him. He _also_ knows there's subconscious shit at play, but he's too tired to have _that_ conversation with himself.

With his options being "go back to bed, maybe wake up late, be a pox on society and have Mags potentially rip you a new anus" or "sit in a room by yourself and eat eggs," it feels obvious what he should do, so he won't be a door's bitch!

He takes in a deep breath, jogs in place, shakes his head to get the panic out of there, and bids the door open!

Success!

He leads himself down the dimly lit stairway, slowly, step by step. The hair on his arms have pricked up to attention. It's _cold_. He makes his way to the main room and hears the door woosh shut from the top of the stairs. He shudders, but congratulates himself on being so brave.

He scans the room for a moment, grinning at the sight of two grey folding chairs.

Then, he looks into the Death Box and holds in a yelp.

There, still kneeling in the center, is the Colossus, only he's _not_ the Colossus, or, at least, not _quite_. The man in the Box is...human-y, chunks of his skin are shiny, and other parts are covered in angry red stretch marks and glistening with sweat. There seems to be a sort of unnatural glow around him, as if he's casting off energy. His eyes are pried wide open and foggy, darting off to somewhere in the distance, and his breath comes out in pants which cling to the cold air in a vapor. Occasionally some Russian words Todd can't understand rise up as well.

Todd's chest feels tight, and he swallows deeply. Though he's shivering and his limbs are trembling, he draws himself in closer to the glass, putting a hand against it.

He chuckles to himself, thinking something about Achilles or Hercules or Samson.

How had he never known that the Colossus's eyes are _blue?_

"Did 'Mind do this to you?" He whispers.

The Colossus groans, rasps out what sounds like "Yana" or maybe "Yama," and struggles against the restraints.

"...what did he do?" Todd whispers, more to himself than to the captive.

This should be nothing. He remembers planning with his team to take down this Goliath of a man, how he would stalk out of the rubble of a collapsed building like he was prancing through daisies. He remembers watching his friends land a heavy hit on the guy, pumping his fists when he fell, like a game hunter bagging a shot. He remembers laughing at his expense, how good it felt to see someone so high-and-mighty seeming, so strong and tough, so untouchable, so...so... _confident_ and _optimistic_ and _naive_ , someone who didn't _really_ understand, eat shit.

But now...now that the big guy is shaking alone in the cold, crying out in his strange language, trapped, and scared, and hurt, looking like a kennel mutt, a far cry from facing him in battle...Todd can't help but feel bad.

So he spreads his fingertips across the glass, giving the giant a look of pity. "You and me both, big guy," is all he can say. "You and me both."

If he can't be free, then the Colossus can't either, he decides.It's only fair.

And, besides, if Todd tries anything, Magneto will make his life even more of a nightmare. This way, Mags can take his anger out on the big idiot, and Todd can start worming away to safety, or, even better, get some respect, responsibility, praise, acceptance, or even-- dare he dream it?-- _love_.

He withdraws and turns to the control panel, reaching for the notes that Jason left there.

He has work to do.


End file.
